stupidity
by dusk's falling star
Summary: thiefshipping oneshot / / set in an au where battle city lasts longer then roughly 3 days / / song used / a thousand years - christina perri


_heart beats **fast**;_

_**colors** and **promises**;_

_how to be **brave**;_

_how can i l**ove** when i'm **afraid **to fall?  
_

Bakura was a spirit, 3,000 years old and taking possession of a 17 year old boy. Throughout centuries and millenniums, he's never felt any emotion other then the hate for the pharaoh, and the amusement and enjoyment of the pain of others.

He shouldn't be able to feel anything else. He _likes_ it that way, cold and heartless. It makes life easy.

_This all changed the day he met Marik Ishtar._

_but watching you **stand alone**,_

_all of my** doubt**_

_**suddenly** goes away somehow._

Marik was a puzzle, a mystery, and the holder of a millennium item. At first, that's all he was to Bakura - an amusing toy, a partnership that would certainly never last. The holder of the Millennium Rod, an item he simply needed for his revenge. And he'd get it, in whatever way possible. That was the plan.

The time he spent with the other tipped that plan upside down.

_one step **closer**_

Bakura found himself amused by the other's presence, enjoying teasing him and pissing him off, only holding off slightly because of their deal - Slifer for the Millennium Rod, something he'd see to the end. He hadn't a clue when things changed - maybe the first clue was going out with the other for a drink or two and to try and scam unsuspecting duelists, only to feel sudden rage at anyone who even dared to _wink_ at Marik, _let alone_ flirt.

Something that, at first would never have bothered the spirit, - _why should he care who Marik has relations with? It wasn't like they were even anything other then partners in crime._ - became a nagging hate in his gut, the urge to hurt and kill those who got too close to the other man. He didn't _understand_ it, and he found himself forcing bitter smiles if Marik questioned his reactions. Because he didn't know why he acted that way, either.

_i have **died** every day **waiting** for you;_

_darling, don't be afraid - i have **loved** you_

_for a **thousand years**_

_i'll love you for a **thousand** more._

Bakura wouldn't deny the egyptian was good looking, of course. In fact, you'd have to be _blind_ to not see it - blind, or have terrible taste in men. But it was a minor concern, and something Bakura originally never thought much about. After all, over the years, he'd never really stopped for such physical concerns - it wasn't his style, wasn't _necessary_. And so, he began labeling the hateful feeling in his gut as lust - a_s lust and love are very close in feeling_, easy to confuse for one another and just as deadly to everyone around it.

And so he _dealt_ with the increasing jokes, dealt with Marik using his good looks to charm people - women, especially - into helping him and giving him things, dealt with the strange feeling that stirred in his stomach when Marik pulled a rare smile at him, or smirked at him in preparation for a cruel joke, dealt with what Marik was doing to him. Physical desire, _lust_, can be controlled - and besides, they'd be parting ways soon enough, and Bakura could forget he ever met Marik. Forget this…obsession with the egyptian.

_time stands **still**;_

_**beauty** in all** he is**._

_i will be **brave**;_

_i will **not** let anything **take away**_

_what's standing in front of me._

And days went by as the slow drawing of the Battle City finals drew closer. The teasing grew, and Bakura dealt with it, pulling sarcastic smiles at Marik whenever he made a particularly cruel joke. He could feel Ryou's soft presence occasionally, softly teasing him and nagging him about Marik - the only time his host spoke was usually about him. And Bakura _wondered_, if somehow his host understood this strange feeling he had better then he did.

_"You're not feeling just **lust**, Spirit." _

"Go away."

Because the alternative of lust was something Bakura didn't want to think about, an option that simply_ couldn't_ happen - he'd been alive for too long to feel emotions like love, and _certainly_ not for this man he'd only known for a while. _No,_ love didn't work like that, and Bakura didn't believe in love at first sight.

Yet…Ryou seemed so certain. Soft teasing that nagged at his mind during the night, pointing out how the other's dreams always seemed to involve Marik now, insisting that the 'butterflies in his stomach' was due to a crush, to love - and Bakura rejected it. Even if he was 'in love' with the egyptian, it wasn't like his feelings would be returned - _so why should he bother?_ It was _lust_, pure _lust_ - he just wanted to bed the other, and everything would go back to normal. _Besides, one couldn't fall in love with someone they'd only known for a while._

_"You'll never know if you don't tell him."_

_every **breath**_

_every **hour** has come to this._

_one step closer…_

Battle city finals arrived. His partnership with Marik had lasted nearly a week and a half, and he found himself enjoying the other's company - to the point where he realized he noticed when Marik was gone, noticed when the room was void of his strange laughter and stupid, cruel, offensive jokes. And, much to his disgust, he _missed_ it.

He _hated_ this stupid, mortal body. He hated _Marik_, for somehow being so_ stupidly_ attractive that he started feeling for the other. He _hated_ feeling weak, and feeling something other then hatred for anyone. He hated being _dependent_, hated missing _anyone_ - because he _knew_ this wouldn't last. Once Battle City was over, he'd be rid of Marik.

_And then what_? Of course, he'd finish his fight with the Pharaoh.

_But…what after that?_

_i have **died** every day waiting for** you**_

_**darling**, don't be afraid; i have **loved** you_

_for a **thousand** years_

_i'll love you for a **thousand** more_

_He lost to Yugi. _He lost his chance at Slifer, and he could _feel_Marik's cold laughter, he could feel Marik's annoyance and disgust, and it _annoyed_ him. It _bothered_ him, for reasons he couldn't place. So he took the final attack, a defense against his host, a survival mechanism.

But his feelings didn't matter now, did it? Not after he just woke up, not after he lost to _Yugi_, of all people. Now, the person he was looking at wasn't Marik - he was a parasite, something so like Bakura himself yet so different. A being born from Marik's own hate.

But he wasn't Marik. He would never be Marik. And - _why was he so concerned with getting Marik's body back to him? Why should he care?_

_"You** love** him. Just tell him."_

_"I don't **'love'** anyone."_

_and **all** along, i believed i would** find** you_

_**time** has brought your **heart** to me_

_i have **loved** you for a** thousand** years_

_i'll love you for a **thousand** more_

_He should have won. **He should have won.**_ He could hear Marik's bitching at him, trying to dictate how he should play - but he could see it in the _other_ Marik's face, the cruel smirk and taunting laugh. The card he drew, the card he played - _one turn kill,_ an ability so overpowered no one stood a chance against it.

Bakura could only stare as the effect was activated - could only look his 'death' in the face as he felt Marik's gasp next to him. He knew, of course, this would only be a minor setback for him - after all, his soul was still in the Millennium Puzzle.

Yet amidst the smoke, as he prepared to disappear for only a while, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. And he heard a faint, soft, giggle - a sound he recognized as his host. The same giggle he remembered when Ryou ruined his first plans.

_one step **closer**…_

_"You're going to **die**, you fool! Why are you **laughing**?!"_

_"You should've told him sooner~"_

Ryou's soft, almost _amused_ sentence would haunt Bakura until the day he finally died, and his soul was released. Because the full impact of what was about to happen slammed into him like a ton of bricks.

All the _feelings_, the unspoken words, the way Marik smirked at him and made his stomach turn - _and not in a bad way_. The way he felt semi self-conscious about some things, and the possessiveness he felt towards the boy.

_…one step **closer**.._

Unspoken denial of what was '_love_', mistaking it for a physical_lust_.

_And while he would survive this, surely, Marik would not._

He _should've_ told Marik sooner,_ should've_ realized these stupid human emotions before he was staring death in the face. Maybe he could've stayed with the other for longer.

_But it was too late for regret now_. And as the fire increased, racing towards them, he found himself spinning to the translucent figure of Marik, wide eyed.

_i have **died** every day **waiting** for you_

_darling, don't be **afraid**; i have loved you_

_for a** thousand** years_

"Marik, I- I need to tell you something-" Hastily spoken, rushed words - a rushed, stupid confession he should've made earlier. Even if he would've ended up rejected, he should've tried to tell the other - _shouldn't he have?_

His words were lost in the screams and flames. And before he knew what had happened, the ring clattered to the ground, and Bakura found himself in the Millennium Puzzle.

He pulled his legs inward, feeling a sense of _shame, loneliness_ - emotions he only felt once before, when he couldn't save his village from death. From fire and flames. It didn't occur to Bakura he was actually crying until he felt water hit his mouth, and he cursed himself for his own fucking stupidity.

He was _stupid,_ and he hated these _stupid_, human emotions - hated feeling _love_ for someone he knew would get ripped away from him anyways, someone he'd only known for a few weeks, and he hated _himself_ for being so stupid and useless as to watch someone he cared about be ripped away to death right in front of him again.

_i'll **love** you for a **thousand** more._

_He should've told him sooner._

_But it was too late to regret that now. _

And so, Bakura dragged himself up, wiping his face with the back of his hand and hissing Yugi's name in hatred, a silent vow in the back of his mind. He'd crush the Pharaoh, twice over for everything he'd made Bakura lose. And…after all of this was over, if there was some way for Bakura to bring Marik back, he _would_do it.

The ridiculousness of the latter happening forced a bitter smile to Bakura's face. But it was okay.

He could wait another thousand years in the ring for Marik to be reborn, if that's what it took. And maybe the next time, he wouldn't be so stupid.


End file.
